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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24782017">let's sort the whole thing out</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/linoone/pseuds/linoone'>linoone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Moving In Together, Multi, Original Elias Bouchard - Freeform, Polyamory, Slow Burn, elias is not an important character in this don't get excited simps, will tag other characters when they appear - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:14:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24782017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/linoone/pseuds/linoone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon makes the decision to move in with his assistants. He does not make the decision to fall in love with all of them, but it comes along anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Sasha James, Martin Blackwood/Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker, Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>457</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. i’m onto something good</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>seeing the state of the fanfic on this website, i think you all could need this. based on an au made with the peeps over on the discord server. this is mostly just a quick introduction to the concept, will be fluffier and more in depth in later chapters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>This had to be one of the most unethical things Jon had ever done in his life. Some bosses slept with their employees but he had to go and move in with his. He loathed to think of the kinds of forms HR would have to make up for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hadn’t been something he had really given much thought to. His flat was perfectly serviceable for him. But Tim came in one day complaining about his water pressure and Sasha had talked about how annoying the commute was on the bus and Martin had been staying in the Archives which could hardly be considered ideal. They had been complaining about all those things when Jon said what had to be the most natural idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you just move in together?” He said, looking over his cup of tea and waiting for it to cool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made all three of them perk up. More than telling them to get to work ever got their attention, anyway. That thought almost made him snort, but from the looks on their faces, they were seriously considering it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So maybe it would be cheaper. So maybe they could save some money and help the environment by carpooling together. So apparently Martin made a really good banana bread that he’d be missing out on if he didn’t also join in on their plans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really, it was one of the most sensible and adult decisions he’d ever heard them come up with. Momentarily, Jon thought back to his own flat. It was fine, perfectly serviceable, but he couldn’t say he would miss it all that much. And since his break-up with Georgie, he would admit that he missed living with other people. As complicated as his relationships with his assistants were, they could probably keep him in check better than he could do for himself. And he could keep a better watch on them in case they ran into any more worms or monsters named Michael.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he knew it, they were looking at places together. It was hard enough to find one with enough rooms for all of them, though Tim had said multiple times that he wouldn’t mind bunk beds, but eventually they found one with enough room for all of them. The only downside was that the former owner thought it was most definitely haunted, but that didn’t bother any of them all that much. How much worse could it be than their day job?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now he was sitting on a stack of boxes, watching as Tim and Martin and Sasha went back and forth carrying their own furniture and knick-knacks in. This had to have been their fourteenth or fifteenth trip back and forth between their own old places and Tim had volunteered his van, recently cleaned of all its camping equipment and kayaking gear, to help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were laughing, pulling him from his thoughts. Jon peeked out from his spot to see them in the middle of carrying a faded yellow couch up the stairs. It didn’t look like they’d needed help, so he didn’t feel too bad about simply watching as they joked with each other and had to maneuver just so it didn’t get stuck on the curves of the staircase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He liked watching them. They always seemed to have so much fun talking to each other and he’d watched as Tim and Sasha welcomed Martin into their friend group just like they had done to him when he’d first joined Research all those years ago. Martin was… lucky to have them. Since becoming the Archivist, Jon found himself missing that kind of friendship. Instead he watched from his office instead as they had fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe that was why he felt so awkward there. They didn’t really need him there and he almost felt like he was intruding on them by watching them. He was their boss, after all, even if they never really saw him much like that. It wasn’t like they were moving in with Elias of all people. Still, he found himself shifting in his seat, tugging at the sleeves of his T-shirt as they brought in the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Out of the way, Jon, we don’t want to crush you.” Tim managed, at least a little strained under the weight of the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped out of the way as asked, moving to the kitchen just to be safe. The couch was set down as gently as they could manage with a quick thud followed by a much longer thump as the three of them collapsed on top. They didn’t say anything, likely catching their breaths. Jon peeked over the counter at them, wearing a curious look. There was room on the couch for him, if he really wanted to take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he turned away and went to what was now his new bedroom. There was unpacking to do and he found the stacks of boxes reminded him too much of sleeping in the archives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They ordered take-out that night, claiming they were too tired to cook and that they couldn’t find any of their pots and pans anyway. Jon didn’t remember telling them what he wanted, but they’d gotten what he wanted anyway. Maybe Tim still had his order memorized back from when they’d all stay late in Research. It was probably best not to think about it and he was too busy listening to them talk about old moving stories or about where some of the more eclectic objects they had brought in had come from. It was warm and it made him feel fuzzy inside, in a way he just couldn’t understand why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got up in the middle of Tim’s story about a broken in half skateboard and went to his room. His cheeks felt too warm, but maybe that was the lack of air conditioning. That made enough sense, he told himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon lay on his mattress on the ground for some time, staring up at the ceiling. He’d never gone to bed so early in his life, at least not since his university days. They were still talking outside his door, he could hear that much. If he really wanted to, he could go and join them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he pulled his pillow over his head and squeezed his eyes shut until he could sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve made a huge mistake.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. did you linger for too long?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The morning after and the beginning of the gradual thawing of Jonathan Sims.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i can not believe the response for the first chapter i'm ??? flustered. um well here we go! more pining and some indulgent headcanons. </p><p>dedicated to my discord server for whom we share this baby with. love u guys</p><p>there's a playlist for this au and it's all bops, no sad.  https://open.spotify.com/playlist/16N86Ni4lmorDRjDfDJCjb?si=ZjlT7PRpSe2e7RnnSimd3w</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sun woke Jon up before anything else could, which came as a pleasant surprise, given how most nights he was up due to a particularly nasty nightmare. Maybe moving boxes really took it out of him, he mused as he pushed a hand through his dark hair and pulled a few unruly strands into a tiny ponytail. For a moment, he thought that he might be late for work, before he remembered it was Sunday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked himself up off the mattress, sparing a glance for the pieces of bed frame that would need to be assembled soon enough. He wasn’t sure he actually knew how to put it together and he couldn’t exactly recall who had done it before the first time-- Georgie, probably-- but that was a problem that Jon after a cup of coffee could solve. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he dug through a box labelled neatly in black marker “CLOTHES - JON” for an old sweatshirt suffering from the effects of mothballs and a pair of sweatpants that had accidentally gotten ink spilled all over it when he’d left one of his fancy pens in his pocket before doing the laundry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he tiptoed along the floorboards in his mismatched socks, he expected for Tim to make some kind of quip about his outfit, but he was met with the soft silence of keys typing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, the three seemed to be half asleep, even more than he was. Four boxes had been pushed together to make a table of sorts, despite the perfectly good table sitting not too far away, and they had gathered all of their throw pillows as seats, again ignoring the perfectly serviceable chairs. Sasha seemed to be the most awake of them all by a small margin, her laptop out and her round glasses resting precariously on the tip of her nose. Her dog, a corgi, that if he had to guess, was the infamous Mr. Peanut she’d been sharing pictures of in the office, was lying beside her on a pillow that seemed to also feature a corgi on it. Tim was keeled over on Martin’s shoulder, who looked like he was about to drift off too, wearing a charity run t-shirt with fading lettering from being washed too many times. A half-eaten pastry dangled from his fingers, but he didn’t seem to be too focused on breakfast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep well?” Jon asked, just barely keeping himself from sounding too smug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three gave him a weak series of various grumblings and mumblings. Never had he thought he’d see the day where he’d be the morning person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You missed it.” Tim mumbled, stirring just a little so he could dip his pastry into Sasha’s mug filled with orange juice and not his own with coffee that she moved out of the way just in time. “We helped Martin build his bed after you left. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Very </span>
  </em>
  <span>exciting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we found out that Tim doesn’t even own a bed frame.” Sasha murmured, moving his coffee closer to him. “He sleeps on the floor like this all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dramatic sigh left Tim’s lips as he clumsily reached for his mug. “Some of us are just used to living the bachelor life, Sash. Besides, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>already knew that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds thrilling.” Jon managed, scanning their makeshift table for a place he could sit, seeing it looked like most of the pillows being sat on were already taken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you give him a treat, he’ll probably move for you.” Sasha’s voice broke him out of his, admittedly still sleep-addled, thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re in the kitchen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon nodded, stiffly maneuvering around the boxes and miscellaneous appliances. The kitchen was roomy, roomier than his old flat, for certain, and far nicer than the break room kitchen that he ended up using more often than not. The cabinets and counters had been painted a nice faded green that he might have thought garish, but found it rather charming. Crumpled newspaper pages that had once been used to carefully package their assortment of novelty mugs littered the counter and a notepad lay out on the counter with a shopping list containing such things as a can opener and a bed frame for Tim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you want any tea, Jon? I could make some more.” Martin called from their table, sounding still a little stuffy with sleep. It reminded him faintly of when he had walked in once or twice on him on the cot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thank you, Martin. Believe it or not, I usually make my own tea when I’m at home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Home. The word slipped out without meaning to, but thankfully it seemed to go all over their heads. It wasn’t really a home as much as the place he lived in, as much as his old flat was his home or Georgie’s was his home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon didn’t even know why he was trying to rationalize it, given it was distracting him from the dog treats right in front of them. He fished out one bone-shaped biscuit and returned to the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dog stared up at him with big brown eyes and giant ears perked, interest piqued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can make him do a spin if you hold it up long enough.” Tim mumbled, who had given up on using Martin’s shoulder as a pillow and had decided to lay down on the ground instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That did sound cute, though he’d never say that out loud. Jon held the treat out in front of him for a few moments before, as predicted, the dog did a quick spin. That certainly was worthy of a reward, so he set it down a short distance away so he could take the pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peanut is very well-trained.” Jon remarked, sitting down beside Sasha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Peanut.” She replied without looking up from her laptop. “The Mr. part is important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suppressed a smile at that, choosing instead to look down at his crossed legs. There were a few moments of relative silence, save for the clicking of keys and the occasional sip from mugs. At some point, he was certain Tim had actually fallen back asleep, but he couldn’t blame him. He’d quite nearly been lulled back to sleep as well, the buzzing of his phone startling him enough to bring him back to the land of the living.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Georgie Barker</b>
</p><p>
  <span>i heard you moved out! i need your new address for mailing reasons :p and nothing else</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon snorted, only barely drawing the attention of Sasha and Martin. He sent the address and waited a few minutes before sending a follow-up.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jonathan Sims</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not even going to ask how you figured that out. I hope you’re not planning a surprise visit, I’m not ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Georgie Barker</b>
</p><p>
  <span>maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>how’d you manage to swing a four bedroom flat on your spooky librarian salary</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jonathan Sims</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Archivist salary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And make that 4 salaries. We got a good deal because it’s supposedly haunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He desperately hoped that the mention of a haunted flat would distract her from the mention of roommates, but he would be sorely disappointed.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Georgie Barker</b>
</p><p>
  <span>ooooh who’s we?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jonathan Sims</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Georgie Barker</b>
</p><p>
  <span>i have a hard time believing you have any friends i don’t also know</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jonathan Sims</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Work friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Georgie Barker</b>
</p><p>
  <span>coworkers?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jonathan Sims</b>
</p><p>
  <span>...Technically my assistants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The typing bubble had never looked so frantic.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Georgie Barker</b>
</p><p>
  <span>SCANDALOUS!!!</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jonathan Sims</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Ugh. Don’t remind me.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Georgie Barker</b>
</p><p>
  <span>you’ll have to explain how that happened when i come over to visit</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon cast a glance around the room, still piled high with boxes. He didn’t consider himself to be much of an interior designer, but it was far from a place he would be proud to show off. Not that he wanted to show off either.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jonathan Sims</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe next Sunday. I have a lot of unpacking to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Georgie Barker</b>
</p><p>
  <span>i’ll clear my schedule.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> i’m so excited to meet the people who finally managed to worm their way into your heart :P the admiral says hi btw</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The message made his heart skip a beat, quickly looking up at the other three to make sure they weren’t staring. They weren’t, of course, but he could already feel the heat spread across his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Jonathan Sims</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Tell him I said hi too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone was quickly shoved back in his sweatshirt pocket before she could reply, probably with a picture of the Admiral that he would lovingly look at later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m going to go unpack my things.” Jon stood up, earning only a glance from Martin and a nod from Sasha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re missing anything, make sure to write in on the list. We’re going grocery shopping later.” She said, moving to pet Mr. Peanut who had found his place on her lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was met with a stiff nod before Jon returned to his own bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day went by quickly once he finally began his arduous task of unpacking. He didn’t consider himself to be a minimalist by any sense of the word, but he had no clue he had so much stuff until he finally had to start pulling things out of boxes and finding a proper place for everything. But he couldn’t deny the sense of accomplishment he felt once all his clothes were folded away in his dresser neatly and at least some of his book collection had found a place. Sasha had come in with a drill and had helped him put his bed together, giving him somewhere a little more comfortable to sleep than the floor. How Tim had managed that for so much of his adult life was a complete mystery to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the whirlwind of boxes and crumpled newspaper, he’d almost completely forgotten about work the next day. Even on his days off, he’d usually spent at least some time dedicated to leaving notes on the statements, usually snide little comments that seemed too mean to record. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Probably just caught up in all the moving,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he told himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dinner that night was takeout again, from somewhere else that he didn’t recognize, and at the actual table for once. The living room had started to take shape with an actual TV and a gaming console he imagined belonged to Tim. The conversation over their food was a bit livelier than at breakfast, but the moving things around had left them all at least a little tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left for bed early again, telling them and himself that they still weren’t allowed to be late for work, even now that they were living together. Not that he’d be able to get there any earlier though, given he was certain they would all be driving over together. Saving the environment and all as they’d put it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell asleep faster that night, his thoughts less on what statements awaited him the next morning and more what the line to use the sole bathroom would be like.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. a new normal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jon and Martin get some time alone.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes i'm alive. i was trying to make this chapter to have three parts in one with jon and each of his assistants but i need instant gratification and i finished the martin one so. please. take it. proof i'm not dead.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jon had fully expected the first day back to work to be more awkward than it eventually ended up being. He was already teased enough without them knowing what his pajamas looked like or that he used a toothbrush meant for kids with the reasoning that he found the dinosaurs on them to be more his style than the others. However, they were just as sluggish in the morning as they were when they arrived at work and he found that no one had even thought to comment on his mismatched socks he’d worn to bed or his far from healthy breakfast. It was almost disappointing, but he hid that under his usual indifferent look and went about his day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drive to work was equally as boring and Jon had found that even Tim didn’t have the kind of energy to sing along to his playlist before his second cup of coffee. Sasha had claimed the passenger seat with a practiced ease he could tell came from years of carpooling and taking that very seat. She had also told him it was because she had longer legs than he did, but he couldn’t argue much there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he did every morning, Jon sat himself in his office and recorded a statement. Nothing was out of the ordinary and usually he would like that. Usually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He furrowed his brow and stared down at the finished statement, moving it to the stack of others that he’d already recorded and were in need of filing once more, as he tried to figure out why it felt so quiet. Martin had come in with a cup of tea as he always did, making a quick quip about how he’d managed to find a mug that had been considered missing in action while going through the cupboard before making his exit. Tim had dropped off a stack of follow-up reports without a single typo for Jon to busy himself with and had even managed to knock on the door before he came in, a rare feat for him. Sasha had come in too, just looking for any extra staples he may have had before leaving without asking about how his weekend had gone. Of course, that was before he was spending the weekend and weekdays with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, nothing was out of the ordinary. The archivist let out a sigh before glancing towards the clock and waiting for the time to go by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it went by, albeit way too slowly for his liking. He thought he might fall asleep in his chair before a knock snapped him out of his daze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in.” Jon managed, clearing his throat and smoothing down any cowlicks that might have formed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin peeked his head around the door, a little ridiculous given how tall he was, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry to bother you, but Tim said he’s gonna be a little late running errands after work, so we should just take the tube home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Errands?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some storage unit that needs cleaning out. Sasha volunteered to come with him and I… well--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon raised an eyebrow. “...you don’t want to run into any worms alone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” That seemed to help him relax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood from his desk, stretching his arms above his head with a thinly veiled yawn. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Martin was watching him with what some would call a flushed expression. Maybe the heat was on too high. His bag was slung over his shoulder and they made their way home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d been home for what was maybe half an hour when Jon finally glanced up from his reading on the couch, perking up when he heard what sounded like an egg being cracked. He and Mr. Peanut both turned their heads at the sound, seeing Martin standing in the kitchen over a bowl. Things were still fairly messy with all the dishes still needing to find their proper places and the recycling piling up to reach the ceiling, but it looked like he had cleaned off some counter space for his ingredients. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Jon was silent, simply watching Martin crack a few more eggs on the rim of the bowl. It was quiet enough that he could hear him hum something, though he wasn’t sure what it was. It sounded familiar though, some old song he’d heard his grandmother listen to while she complained about the inappropriate music on the radio. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh-- oh, oops.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon tipped his head at that, unintentionally mirroring Mr. Peanut who had decided to peek over the back of the couch cushions with him. “Something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin’s head perked straight up, turning even more red than when he had been looking at him earlier. If he squinted, he could see a smear of flour that had landed on his cheek, perhaps when he had been trying to mix whatever it was he was making.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It just um… flicked out at me. Nothing big.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon picked himself off the couch anyway, wheeling around to come see the damage. It really wasn’t much of anything to be fussed over, like Martin said, besides a little bit of batter spilled on the ground. Still it would help to clean it up before the dog came over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wordlessly, Jon picked up a dish towel and crouched down to wipe it up. After a moment, he thought to wipe off the flour on Martin’s cheek but he stopped himself and offered it out to him instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Martin murmured, rubbing away the flour with a sheepish look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the occasion?” Jon raised an eyebrow, looking for signs of a recipe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin glanced back at the bowl, returning to mix it. “No reason. I just like baking. Normally I would-- never mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything Jon knew about manners said that it would be rude to pry any further, but he couldn’t help his more curious side from taking over. “Normally you’d…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other man seemed to think his answer over, setting the spoon down. Jon couldn’t help but notice the slow rise and fall of his chest as a long sigh was released, before averting his eyes to the recipe cut out from a magazine that lay on the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I used to bring them to my mum, but um… she’s not really a fan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of cookies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jon felt a pang of guilt rise in his chest and an awkward silence soon took over him. He didn’t really know much about any of their families, but there had to be a reason why none of them seemed to want to talk about that and he had stumbled right into it blindly. He’d spent years getting to know Tim and Sasha and he still had no idea what theirs were like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin seemed to notice his reaction and quickly grew flustered, returning to the bowl. “It doesn’t really matter now. I’m just glad that I have people to eat all of it now. Tim goes through a tin so fast. “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so Tim did, claiming that he’d worked up quite an appetite getting all of his camping equipment into the basement. Jon had only managed to snag one before they were all gone. He didn’t like sweets much, but he couldn’t pass on a snickerdoodle. Especially when he still felt a little guilty for reminding Martin of his mother, who didn’t sound like the kindest woman in the world. His baking did not disappoint. Once or twice, he managed to glance over at Martin, looking happier than he’d ever seen him in the archives on the cot, surrounded by Tim singing his praise for his cookie and Sasha going through their cookbooks to find other recipes they could try on the weekend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their eyes met. Martin gave a shy smile that was returned with an even tinier one from Jon. Despite the fact they weren’t alone in the room anymore, he couldn’t find himself paying attention to anyone or anything else, until he broke away to put another kettle of tea on the stovetop.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. everyone is falling as their lives play out unplanned</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a shopping trip with sasha reveals just how much jon has been oblivious to.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello fellow lgbts i bet you weren't expecting this</p><p>i don't know what to say other than uh... life.</p><p>edited: reworded a line that came off harsher than i intended if it doesn’t make sense it’s because i just finished an all nighter at work.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, Sasha had dragged him out to get groceries after he finished his work early, stating that she needed someone to help carry everything on the tube home. He hadn’t had a chance to protest before they were already out of the door, pointedly ignoring Martin and Tim doing their work.</p><p>And god, it was awkward. It was impossible not to feel the uncharacteristic silence from her as she furrowed her brow over two avocados attempting to figure out if they were ripe enough. He fiddled with his hands for a few moments before finally deciding to speak up.</p><p>“You know, Tim might have been a bit more help with this. What with his car and…” He made an awkward gesture of flexing biceps he definitely didn’t have. “...muscles?”</p><p>Normally that would earn at least a chuckle from her, but she stayed silent before huffing and setting both of the avocados down and pushing the cart further down the aisle. Odd. Maybe she hadn’t heard him.</p><p>“I mean, he loves doing things like this. Playing house and all.”</p><p>“Hm.”</p><p><em> Don’t press it, Jon, just don’t press it. </em> </p><p>“Is something wrong?”</p><p>Damn his curiosity. </p><p>Sasha’s expression twisted in what seemed to some very complicated indecision that Jon assumed wasn’t about breakfast cereal.  Maybe she was regretting taking him along instead of Tim now. Still, he waited with bated breath as her eyebrows furrowed and un-furrowed before she finally gave up a sigh. </p><p>“Jon, do you remember the office holiday party a few years back? The one where you kept pulling down all the mistletoe even though it kept reappearing.” She turned to him with a weary glance.</p><p>“Vaguely. “ His expression turned sour at the memory. He’d tried reporting it to Elias several times to no avail.</p><p>“And how Tim gave me a ride home?”</p><p>That detail seemed to have passed him by, but he nodded just for the sake of getting the answer sooner.</p><p>“And how we didn’t talk to each other for <em> months </em>after for seemingly no reason and kept asking you to pass notes for us? “ Her tone seemed to imply that there was some obvious conclusion to be made, but it only passed right over his head. </p><p>“...Not really?” He managed.</p><p>She visibly deflated at that, giving him a look that told him that he was absolutely hopeless. And maybe he was, because everything she listed had seemed perfectly normal to him at the time and only slightly strange now.</p><p>“Tim and I slept together, Jon.” </p><p>Yes, that definitely had flown right over him. “Really?”</p><p>“Yes, really. Did you actually not know?” </p><p>Well, that certainly put a few things into perspective now that he thought about it. Suddenly, those months of awkwardness where they didn’t go out for drinks like they used to and both seemed more sullen than usual and refused to look each other in the eye started to all add up. Now he felt a little silly for not noticing all the signs that all showed so clearly from the breakfast aisle years later. At least by the time he made them assistants, all had seemed to be mended between the two of them, and it couldn’t have been that bad if they had been willing to move in together.</p><p>“Honestly? I didn’t even know the two of you liked each other. Like that.”</p><p>Sasha’s tiny smile dropped as she pushed the cart along once more, Jon trailing after. “It was complicated. Hence, the awkwardness.”</p><p>“Well, you’re friends, aren’t you? Which means you like each other so it shouldn’t be-- sorry, I don’t really know what I’m talking about. I’ve never slept with Tim.”</p><p>“I know, Jon.”</p><p>“Just to be clear.”</p><p>She huffed out something that sounded a bit like a laugh and Jon found himself relaxing once more as they pulled into the next aisle.</p><p>“It was complicated because I thought he would be my subordinate soon.” She replied after some silence, stacking baking ingredients in the cart that looked like the kind of thing Martin used to bake the other evening.</p><p>That thoroughly confused Jon even more than the revelation they had slept together. “Why would he be your subordinate?”</p><p>“You never fail to amaze me, Jon.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“Just being the way you are. So smart, but so so clueless.”</p><p>He openly balked, waiting for her to elaborate.</p><p>“I thought I was going to get the Archivist position. I met Gertrude a few times before she disappeared and she mentioned something to that effect. I guess Elias never got the memo.” She shrugged like it was nothing but it was definitely something to him.</p><p>“You wanted to be the Archivist?” He managed out, sounding thoroughly frazzled.</p><p>“<em> Yes </em>, Jon. But it’s fine. Just… confusing now.” </p><p>He could understand that feeling quite well. Becoming the Archivist had been quite the adjustment for him and now that he thought about it, it would have made far more sense for Sasha to earn that position. Despite all his pomp and circumstance, she was much more cleverer, if that was even a word, than he ever was. Now he was just one of those sexist creeps who got a job he wasn’t qualified for and he hadn’t even known it. And he’d gone and made her his <em> assistant </em>? He would have hated him too for that.</p><p>“I imagine living together has brought some of that to the surface.” Jon managed eventually once the shock wore off.</p><p>“Very much so.” She laughed and he had a sense that she truly didn’t hate him. He wasn’t sure how he’d be able to handle <em> Sasha </em>of all people hating him.</p><p>“You must think I’m an idiot. I <em> feel </em>like an idiot.”</p><p>“Not at all. I just think you’re our Jon.”</p><p>His cheeks heated once more at the warmness of her words and the way her gaze fell softly on him when she said our. There were certainly people in his life who would have been annoyed, rightfully, by that, but she said it with such honesty that he did feel, deep down, that he belonged with them. But that was silly and he pushed the thought aside as he moved forward to gather a few muffin tin liners. </p><p>“You can have the Archivist position if you want.” He eventually murmured when the embarrassment faded. “I didn’t realize there would be killer worm ladies.”</p><p>“No thanks. You can keep it now.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find me on tumblr @ timsashas.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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